


i've acquired a taste for a well-made mistake

by dashwoods



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashwoods/pseuds/dashwoods
Summary: When Robbie handed her housing brochures, offered her a home, it seemed so simple. A new place for her, a new place for Jason, one where the three of them might live together, where they might cobble together a family.





	i've acquired a taste for a well-made mistake

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Wrong Thread](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15804444) by [kooili](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooili/pseuds/kooili). 

When Robbie handed her housing brochures, offered her a home, it seemed so simple. A new place for her, a new place for Jason, one where the three of them might live together, where they might cobble together a family. Now, as Serena sags against the couch in the back corner of Albie’s, she thinks it’s not quite what she dreamt it would be. 

Not that Robbie is bad, exactly. He’s...well, he’s sloppy. He leaves water rings on the wood tables and dishes sit in the sink for days if Serena doesn’t wash them. Jason finds more and more reasons to spend time with Alan, to be out of the house. He’s said, in a voice not quite lowered, that Robbie has no concern for the other people living in their home, and Serena didn’t quite have the feeling behind her shushing when she asked him to be quieter. 

If she’s honest with herself, she’s spent more time away as well, clocking overtime hours, choosing to finish paperwork at her desk instead of on her couch. When Bernie asks, looks at her with questioning eyes, Serena just shrugs, says she’d rather not worry about bringing her laptop back and forth, and Bernie drops it. 

Bernie. Another piece in this all too confusing puzzle. Blew into Holby like a tornado, riling up department lead after department lead, finally being shunted down to AAU, like a punishment. But instead, they’ve found a lovely partnership, and Serena thinks this is the first time in ages she’s had a proper work friend. She looks forward to morning coffees, to discussing cases as they walk down the hallways together, to drinks at Albie’s that always seem to go too late, neither one of them willing to leave. 

She knows she’s started complaining about Robbie too much, sees the way Bernie’s face closes down, like she’s shuttering away any sort of negative reaction behind her eyes, doing her best to support Serena’s decisions. 

“It’s just dishes, right?” she laughs off, one night, trying to get that spark in back into Bernie’s eyes, and just finds a blank stare and a nod instead. She’s so inscrutable sometimes, and Serena doesn’t know what to make of it. She’s never been called inscrutable in her life. Effervescent, yes. Charming, yes. But she’s not one to ever leave people in doubt about what she’s thinking. 

Albie’s is relatively quiet this evening, just a few nurses at the bar, the scattered non-hospital employee patrons drinking at tables, low conversations. And then, from Serena’s hidden vantage point in the corner, she sees Bernie walk in with a tall brunette, eyes so blue she can see them from where she sits. 

Something burbles in her stomach, something she isn’t quite sure - perhaps her lunch isn’t sitting just right - and she can’t tear her eyes away. She’s known, at the back of her mind, that Bernie is gay, that Bernie must date, that no one expects a woman as beautiful as Bernie Wolfe to live like a nun. But something about seeing it in front of her - Serena feels a bit as if there’s a boiling kettle in the base of her belly. 

Bernie laughs, her tell-tale honk creeping in at the edges, and Serena feels her chest clench, like it’s in a vise, remembers how _she_ made Bernie laugh like that, just yesterday, with a story about falling on her arse in a wet hallway, heels and ego too high, brought down to earth with one step. 

“I know it’s been hard,” Bernie said, eyes rimmed with gleeful tears, “but in some ways it’s good you didn’t get that promotion.”

“Mm, why’s that?” Serena asked, unable to get the hoot of joy out of her mind, the unabashed pleasure of Bernie’s laugh. 

“Then we wouldn’t be here together.” The genuine statement warmed Serena’s heart, wrapped around it like a blanket, like a friend hugging her after a long absence. 

She thought the laugh was special, the moment was special. And now Bernie’s across the bar, hooting and honking for all the world to see, her hand resting on this other woman’s knee, their legs so close, and Serena shuts her eyes, as if that will stop the mental image of them kissing to be banished from her mind. 

When she opens her eyes, though, she sees that Bernie’s found her, that those dark eyes are trained on her, and she manages a feeble smile, raises her near-empty wine glass in a toast. Bernie’s answering smile is lovely and small, ducking her head, tucking a curl of hair behind her ear, and turning her attention back to her date. 

Serena’s phone buzzes in her hand, a text from Robbie, asking when she’ll be home, a suggestively eyed emoji following the question mark. Suddenly, a night of fun with Robbie seems just what she needs, the perfect idea. She drains the rest of her wine and leaves the bar, doesn’t even look back at Bernie. There are better things for her to focus on. 

⤍⤍⤎⤎

Robbie’s snores keep Serena from falling asleep, loud and nasal. She stares up at the ceiling for far too long, counting her breaths, trying to keep herself from hitting Robbie’s shoulder. Because then they’d both be awake and she’s not sure that accomplishes anything. The clock reads one-thirty before Serena finally gets out of bed, throwing the duvet aside and heading down the stairs, walking quietly by Jason’s room, a rare night when he’s come home too. 

She sits on a wooden chair in the kitchen, head in her hands, the one room in the whole house that feels truly hers, the room Robbie barely sets foot in. It rankles her, eats away at her, but she excuses it by reasoning that she’s the one who knows what Jason likes, how to cook shepherd’s pie and roastie potatoes just the way he likes. 

She scrolls through her phone, sees a missed text from Bernie, just a smiling emoji and a quick “hope you had a good night. sorry you didn’t get to meet alex”

Alex. Serena knows the name, running through the file folders of her mind, then remembers. _Alex_. The woman who Bernie - the woman Bernie fell in love with. She feels horrible, all of a sudden, the thought of Bernie in love, the thought of Bernie preoccupied with another woman, no more late night drinks at Albie’s, just the two of them. No more texts for coffee in the morning, no more phone calls as they drive home at night, keeping the other one awake. Bernie will have Alex and Serena will have...Robbie. 

Her hands are clenched, her fists making her nails dig into her palms. But she takes a deep breath, texts back “next time!” and hopes the exclamation mark conveys the excitement she does not feel. 

And then she goes to the couch in the living room, fluffs the throw pillow, and pulls the blanket from the back cushions over her, tucks her knees up, and closes her eyes, praying for sleep that will come sooner rather than later. 

⤍⤍⤎⤎

Bernie’s a little twitchy the next day, not quite meeting Serena’s eyes, making excuses to leave the office, and Serena finds herself missing Bernie already, missing the moments they made together, the time they shared. It feels silly to mourn something that hasn’t really gone anywhere, but that’s the feeling she’s got, all the same, and it burns in her chest every time Bernie stutters over her words instead of answering any of Serena’s questions straight out. 

There is a brief moment of reprieve when Bernie asks if Serena’s coming to Albie’s that night, a bright light, and then Serena remembers she’s promised to be home with Robbie, to make them a nice supper, to have time for just the two of them. It seemed romantic when he suggested it, and now she’s chafing against the idea. 

“Sorry,” she says, hoping the sincerity is felt. “It’s a night in for me and Robbie. Trying to keep the romance alive now that we’re shacked up.” The words feel hollow, even as she smiles around them, and Bernie’s tight nod makes Serena think that perhaps she sees through it. 

The rest of the day goes by in a rush, patients coming in left and right, and Serena sees more and more the need for that trauma bay Bernie mentions, sees the skill Bernie has at triaging, at how deft she is in a crisis. It makes her feel pride, that this woman is her co-lead, that together they’ve built such an efficient and excellent department of the hospital. How far AAU has come from the first time she stepped onto the floor. She has enormous gratitude for Bernie, folding around her heart. 

She smiles widely when she meets Bernie’s eyes across the room, hopes Bernie knows how grateful she is for her, that she knows how much _goodness_ she’s brought into Serena’s life. Bernie looks a little taken aback, a little shell-shocked, and slants her gaze away, quickly, and the light that bloomed on Serena’s face shutters away, like a candle blown out. This is how it starts, she supposes, a new romance and everything changes. 

They don’t speak the rest of the day, now Serena’s turn to avoid Bernie, unwilling to see anymore shifts in their working relationship, unable to take anymore blows to their partnership. Already she wishes for two days earlier, when their shoulders bumped together in the hallway and she felt a trill of pleasure down her spine, at their earned closeness, their lovely friendship. Such a small thing, to leave such a gaping hole. 

When she pulls into her driveway, flips the headlights off, she takes a beat, readies herself to be chipper and cheerful for Robbie, to act as if nothing at all is wrong. And then she sees Jason sitting on the stoop, arms crossed, face decidedly disgruntled. She doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that she missed the argument that got him out here. Sometimes Jason wants to fight his own battles, and sometimes he wants her to stand up for him, and she’s still working out how to get it right.

“He says I’m not allowed to stay for dinner,” Jason says, as soon as Serena’s car door opens. “I don’t have anywhere to go for dinner. I’m not eating at the chip shop - they don’t wipe the tables often enough.”

“No one wants you to eat at the chip shop, darling,” Serena says, settling in beside Jason on the stairs, more interested in talking with her nephew than going inside and facing Robbie, anger at him already stirring inside her, a rant building in her mind. “I would love for you to have dinner with us tonight.” 

“I don’t want to have dinner with him.” That plaintive tone that was so difficult for Serena to hear when they first met braids through his words, and now she just wants to fix it. “Why do the two of you get to have a special dinner, but you and I never get to have one?” 

It’s a fair question, and Serena feels a spike of guilt, worrying that she hasn’t given him enough time, enough attention, thought quiz shows in the evening and rides to Alan’s might be all he needs, hates herself for missing the fact that he’s wanted more. “Why don’t we have one tonight?” she asks, words coming out easy as breathing. “Let me just go...talk to Robbie.” 

What she’s going to do is break up with Robbie. She pats Jason’s shoulder once, quickly, and pushes herself up, her phone buzzing as she puts her hand out to open the door. 

_Why she’s attached herself to a human potato who can’t even muster the decency to be nice to Jason is beyond me_.

It’s a text from Bernie. A text clearly not meant for her. She sees the tell-tale three dots appear, can imagine Bernie furiously typing at her phone, hair in a curtain over her face, wonders what’s coming next. An apology? An explanation? Instead the dots disappear, and there’s nothing. Somehow that’s worse than anything else. 

She looks at the message again, reads the words over and over. Robbie does have a certain tuber-esque appearance, one she’s mostly ignored until now, told herself it was manly, distinguished. Trust Bernie to see to the heart of the problem, to harbor the feelings she’d never say out loud. How fitting that Serena’s seeing them now, bolstering her to do what needs to be done. How apt that Bernie is an accidental ally. What was her promise? To always have her back? It seems she’s coming through on that, in a most unexpected way.

⤍⤍⤎⤎

Morning comes quick and bright, and Serena wakes up alone in bed, able to stretch out, no male scent filtering into her nostrils, no grunts letting her know he’s coming to consciousness. It’s nice, surprisingly so. Somewhere along the way, Serena convinced herself that she needed to have this stability, to have another person, and Robbie wedged his way in, and she didn’t think twice. 

It was easy to get rid of him, easy to take Jason’s side over his, to remind him that family comes first, to tell him to get out. She watched him pack a bag emotionlessly, distant and removed, only standing in the room to make sure he got it done. Watching him drive away felt like a relief, and the hug Jason gave her when he came back inside felt like home. 

“He won’t be back,” she promised, “except to get the last of his things.” Jason nodded, not quite meeting her eyes, and so she ducked slightly, captured his gaze. “I’m sorry, Jason. I can’t tell you how sorry.” He nodded again, jerkily, and she knew to not expect any more. 

The kitchen smells of fish and chips and leftover curry sauce. It’s the smell of happiness, the smell of freedom, and Serena doesn’t mind it as she waits for her coffee to drip into her mug, a sense of peace stealing over her, a calm she hasn’t felt this deeply since moving in with Robbie. 

There’s a knock at the front door, and she steels herself to see a groveling man outside, begging to come back, apologizing for all he’s done. He’s apologized before, promised to make amends before. “Fool me once,” she mutters to herself, leaving her mug, wrapping her robe more tightly around her. 

It’s Bernie on the front steps, though, hands jammed in her pockets, nervously shuffling, hair an ungodly mess, as if she just woke up and sped over here. But she manages a small smile when she sees Serena, a flush of color in her cheeks. 

“I just - I wanted to apologize,” she says. “It didn’t seem like something to talk about at work. Unprofessional.” Serena thinks about asking Bernie inside, but there’s a distance, a gap, stretching between them, and she thinks perhaps it has to close, shorten, before the other woman will step inside. 

“It happens, Bernie. It was just a text message.” It’s true. She didn’t say anything Serena didn’t already know. “And you were right, anyway. Robbie and I broke up. Turns out I’ve lost my taste for spuds.” Bernie’s head snaps up, startled, eyes searching Serena’s face, and she can’t help but laugh. 

“It wasn’t because - I didn’t - it’s - not because - you didn’t - I-” Her words are so jumbled, coming out garbled and confused and Serena’s laugh only deepens. She grabs Bernie’s arm, pulls her inside, not caring about any gap or tension between them, just wants to thank Bernie for everything she’s done, knowingly or not, just wants to pour her a cup of coffee. 

“I was already on my way to break up with him, and your text just sort of...gave me more courage. It came at exactly the right time. I should thank you. It’s like I had my partner with me.” The words are true and light, and Bernie looks pleased, pink still coloring the apples of her cheeks, eyes still not meeting Serena’s. 

“I meant to send it to Alex,” she says, scuffing her foot against the floor of Serena’s front hall. “She asked why you weren’t coming to Albie’s last night.” 

Serena stiffens, drops Bernie’s arm, pulls herself back in, reminds herself that there’s someone else in Bernie’s life now, that _of course_ this wasn’t all about her, that there’s Alex to consider now. “Why - why were you talking about me to Alex?” She doesn’t know if she’s fishing for compliments, or if she wants some validation of her importance to Bernie, doesn’t know what she wants the answer to be.

Bernie seems frozen, like she’s said too much, like she doesn’t know what to say next. “Ah,” she says, and the lingering pause is enough to drive Serena mad. She wants to shake Bernie, to see if that will make the words come out. “Alex seems to think that...that I like you. That I..._more than_ like you.” 

Confusion falls over Serena like a fog. The boiling kettle in her stomach has fallen quiet, the worry that Bernie will leave her behind seems to be silenced. But none of it makes sense, a jigsaw puzzle missing a piece. “But you two - you were - aren’t you?” It’s Serena’s turn to fumble with words. 

“We’re friends. Nothing more,” Bernie says, surety stealing through her words like steel. “Which is why I trust her when she says that - that…” She fades away again, shifting from one foot to the other, like she’s trying to find the right thing to say. 

Clouds part in Serena’s mind and she thinks - she hopes - she knows what Bernie’s trying to get out. Suddenly it’s easy, so easy, to grasp Bernie’s hand, to tangle their fingers together, noting the way their palms fit together, the way her hand never fit with Robbie’s. “You’re not with Alex,” she says, the words like a marvel, and Bernie nods. “And I’m not with Robbie.” Bernie nods again. There’s a long moment, and then words fall out of Serena as she realizes them, no filter stopping her, revelations tripping from her brain to her lips without a care. “I was jealous.” It’s like a sunrise, to have a name for what she was feeling. 

Bernie looks stunned, surprised, unsure, like she can’t believe this is happening, like she wants nothing more than for this to be happening. “You were jealous,” she repeats slowly, sounding out every syllable. 

Serena laughs again, hand still clasped with Bernie, and she pulls their joined fingers right over her heart. “But you’re not with Alex. And I’m not with Robbie.” It’s Bernie’s turn to smile, to have a realization come over her, and her cheeks split with her grin. “Why don’t you stay for breakfast? Jason will be so glad to see you.” 

When Bernie kisses her, she’s still smiling, smiling like she’s never going to stop. She tastes of morning and coffee and happiness, and when she settles into a chair in the kitchen, Serena thinks it’s the first time she’s loved this room. 


End file.
